Behn Aphra
The Works of Aphra Behn
THE DUMB VIRGIN; OR,
THE FORCE OF IMAGINATION
INTRODUCTION
Consanguinity and love which are treated in this novel so romantically and with such tragic catastrophe had already been dealt with in happier mood by Mrs. Behn in The Dutch Lover. Vide Note on the Source of that play, Vol. I, p. 218. Cross-Reference: The Dutch Lover, Sources.
In classic lore the Œdipus Saga enthralled the imagination of antiquity and inspired dramas amongst the world’s masterpieces. Later forms of the tale may be found in Suidas and Cedrenus.
The Legend of St. Gregory, based on a similar theme, the hero of which, however, is innocent throughout, was widely diffused through mediæval Europe. It forms No. 81 of the Gesta Romanorum. There is an old English poem19 on the subject, and it also received lyric treatment at the hands of the German meistersinger, Hartmann von Aue. An Italian story, Il Figliuolo di germani, the chronicle of St. Albinus, and the Servian romaunt of the Holy Foundling Simeon embody similar circumstances.
Matteo Bandello, Part II, has a famous20 novel (35) with rubric, ‘un gentiluomo navarrese sposa una, che era sua sorella e figliuola, non lo sapendo,’ which is almost exactly the same as the thirtieth story of the Heptameron. As the good Bishop declares that it was related to him by a lady living in the district, it is probable that some current tradition furnished both him and the Queen of Navarre with these horrible incidents and that neither copied from the other.21
Bandello was imitated in Spanish by J. Perez de Montalvan, Sucesos y Prodigios de Amor – La Mayor confusion; in Latin by D. Otho Melander; and he also gave Desfontaines the subject of L’Inceste Innocent; Histoire Véritable (Paris, 1644). A similar tale is touched upon in Amadis de Gaule, and in a later century we find Le Criminel sans le Savoir, Roman Historique et Poëtique (Amsterdam and Paris, 1783). It is also found in Brevio’s Rime e Prose; Volgari, novella iv; and in T. Grapulo (or Grappolino), Il Convito Borghesiano (Londra, 1800). A cognate legend is Le Dit du Buef and Le Dit de la Bourjosee de Rome. (ed. Jubinal, Nouveau Recueil; and Nouveau Recueil du Sénateur de Rome. ed. Méon.) Again: the Leggenda di Vergogna, etc. testi del buon secolo in prosa e in verso, edited by A. D’Ancona (Bologna, 1869) repeats the same catastrophe. It is also related in Byshop’s Blossoms.
In Luther’s Colloquia Mensalia, under the article ‘Auricular Confession’, the occurrence is said to have taken place at Erfurt in Germany. Julio de Medrano, a Spanish writer of the sixteenth century, says that a similar story was related to him when he was in the Bourbonnois, where the inhabitants pointed out the house which had been the scene of these morbid passions. France, indeed, seems to have been the home of the tradition, and Le Roux de Lincy in the notes to his excellent edition of the Heptameron quotes from Millin, Antiquités Nationales (t. iii. f. xxviii. p. 6.) who, speaking of the Collegiate Church of Ecouis, says that in the midst of the nave there was a prominent white marbel tablet with this epitaph: —
Cy-gist la fille, cy-gist le père,
Cy-gist la soeur, cy-gist le frère;
Cy-gist la femme, et le mary,
Et si n’y a que deux corps icy.
The tradition ran that a son of ‘Madame d’Ecouis avait eu de sa mère sans la connaître et sans en être reconnu une fille nommée Cécile. Il épousa ensuite en Lorraine cette même Cécile qui était auprès de la Duchesse de Bar.. Il furent enterrés dans le même tombeau en 1512 à Ecouis.’ An old sacristan used to supply curious visitors to the church with a leaflet detailing the narrative. The same story is attached to other parishes, and at Alincourt, a village between Amiens and Abbeville, the following lines are inscribed upon a grave: —
Ci git le fils, ci git la mère,
Ci git la fille avec le père,
Ci git la soeur, ci git le frère,
Ci git la femme et le mari,
Et ne sont pas que trois corps ici.
When Walpole wrote his tragedy, The Mysterious Mother (1768), he states he had no knowledge of Bandello or the Heptameron, but he gives the following account of the origin of his theme. ‘I had heard when very young, that a gentlewoman, under uncommon agonies of mind, had waited on Archbishop Tillotson and besought his counsel. A damsel that served her had, many years before, acquainted her that she was importuned by the gentlewoman’s son to grant him a private meeting. The mother ordered the maiden to make the assignation, when she said she would discover herself and reprimand him for his criminal passion; but, being hurried away by a much more criminal passion herself, she kept the assignation without discovering herself. The fruit of this horrid artifice was a daughter, whom the gentlewoman caused to be educated very privately in the country; but proving very lovely and being accidentally met by her father-brother, who never had the slightest suspicion of the truth, he had fallen in love with and actually married her. The wretched guilty mother learning what had happened, and distracted with the consequence of her crime, had now resorted to the Archbishop to know in what manner she should act. The prelate charged her never to let her son and daughter know what had passed, as they were innocent of any criminal intention. For herself, he bad her almost despair.’
The same story occurs in the writings of the famous Calvinistic divine, William Perkins (1558-1602), sometime Rector of St. Andrew’s, Cambridge. Thence it was extracted for The Spectator.
In Mat Lewis’ ghoulish romance, The Monk (1796) it will be remembered that Ambrosio, after having enjoyed Antonia, to whose bedchamber he has gained admittance by demoniacal aid, discovers that she is his sister, and heaping crime upon crime to sorcery and rape he has added incest.
There is a tragic little novel, ‘The Illegal Lovers; a True Secret History. Being an Amour Between A Person of Condition and his Sister. Written by One who did reside in the Family.’ (8vo, 1728.) After the death of his wife, Bellario falls in love with his sister Lindamira. Various sentimental letters pass between the two, and eventually Bellario in despair pistols himself. The lady lives to wed another admirer. The tale was obviously suggested by the Love Letters between a Nobleman and his Sister.
THE DUMB VIRGIN:
or, the Force of Imagination
Rinaldo, a Senator of the great City Venice, by a plentiful Inheritance, and industrious Acquisitions, was become Master of a very plentiful Estate; which, by the Countenance of his Family, sprung from the best Houses in Italy, had rendred him extreamly popular and honoured; he had risen to the greatest Dignities of that State, all which Offices he discharged with Wisdom and Conduct, befitting the Importance of his Charge, and Character of the Manager; but this great Person had some Accident in his Children, sufficient to damp all the Pleasure of his more smiling Fortunes; he married when young, a beautiful and virtuous Lady, who had rendred him the happy Father of a Son; but his Joys were soon disturbed by the following Occasion.
There stands an Island in the Adriatick Sea, about twenty Leagues from Venice, a Place wonderfully pleasant in the Summer, where Art and Nature seem to out-rival each other, or seem rather to combine in rendring it the most pleasant of their products; being placed under the most benign climate in the World, and situated exactly between Italy and Greece, it appears an entire Epitome of all the Pleasures in them both; the proper glories of the Island were not a little augmented by the confluence of Gentlemen and Ladies of the chiefest Rank in the City, insomuch that this was a greater mark for Beauty and Gallantry, than Venice for Trade. Among others Rinaldo’s Lady begged her Husband’s permission to view this so much celebrated place.
He was unwilling to trust his treasure to the treachery of the watry element; but repeating her request, he yielded to her desires, his love not permitting him the least shew of command, and so thro’ its extent, conspiring its own destruction. His Lady with her young Son (whom she would not trust from her sight) and a splendid attendance in a Barge well fitted, sets out for the Island, Rinaldo being detained at home himself about some important affairs relating to the publick, committed the care of his dear Wife and Child to a faithful Servant call’d Gaspar; and for their greater security against Pyrates, had obtained his Brother, who commanded a Venetian Galley, to attend them as Convoy. In the evening they set out from Venice, with a prosperous gale, but a storm arising in the night, soon separated the Barge from her Convoy, and before morning drove her beyond the designed Port, when, instead of discovering the wish’d-for Island, they could see a Turkish Pyrate bearing towards them, with all her Sail; their late apprehensions of Shipwrack, were drowned in the greater danger of Captivity and lasting Slavery, their fears drove some into resolutions as extravagant as the terrors that caused them, but the confusion of all was so tumultuous, and the designs so various, that nothing could be put in execution for the publick safety; the greatest share of the passengers being Ladies, added strangely to the consternation; beauty always adds a pomp to woe, and by its splendid show, makes sorrow look greater and more moving. Some by their piteous plaints and wailings proclaimed their griefs aloud, whilst others bespoke their sorrows more emphatically by sitting mournfully silent; the fears of some animated them to extravagant actions, whilst the terrors of others were so mortifying, that they shewed no sign of Life, but by their trembling; some mourned the rigour of their proper fate, others conscious of the sorrows their Friends and Relations should sustain through their loss, made the griefs of them their own; but the heaviest load of misfortunes lay on Rinaldo’s Lady, besides the loss of her liberty, the danger of her honour, the separation from her dear Husband, the care for her tender Infant wrought rueful distractions; she caught her Child in her Arms, and with Tears extorted thro’ Fear and Affection, she deplor’d the Misfortune of her Babe, the pretty Innocent smiling in the Embraces of its Mother, shew’d that Innocence cou’d deride the Persecution of Fortune; at length she delivered the Infant into the Hand of Gasper, begging him to use all Endeavours in its Preservation, by owning it for his, when they fell into the Hands of the Enemy.
But Gasper, who amidst the universal Consternation, had a peculiar Regard to his own Safety, and Master’s Interest, undertook a Design desperately brave. Two long Planks, which lay lengthwise in the Barge, as Seats, he had ty’d together with Ropes, and taking the Infant from the Mother, whilst the whole Vessel was in a distracted Confusion, he fast’ned it to the Planks, and shoving both over-board before him, plung’d into the Sea after, dragging the Planks that bore the Infant with one Hand, and swimming with t’other, making the next Land; he had swam about two hundred Paces from the Barge before his Exploit was discover’d, but then the Griefs of Rinaldo’s Lady were doubly augmented, seeing her Infant expos’d to the Fury of the merciless Winds and Waves, which she then judged more rigorous than the Turks; for to a weak Mind, that Danger works still the strongest, that’s most in View; but when the Pirate, who by this time had fetch’d them within Shot, began to Fire, she seem’d pleas’d that her Infant was out of that Hazard, tho’ exposed to a greater. Upon their Sign of yielding, the Turk launching out her Boat, brought them all on board her; but she had no time to examine her Booty, being saluted by a Broadside, vigorously discharg’d from a Venetian Galley, which bore down upon them, whilst they were taking aboard their Spoil; this Galley was that commanded by Rinaldo’s Brother, which cruising that Way in quest of the Barge, happily engag’d the Turk, before they had Leisure to offer any Violence to the Ladies, and plying her warmly the Space of two Hours, made her a Prize, to the inexpressible Joy of the poor Ladies, who all this time under Hatches, had sustain’d the Horrors of ten thousand Deaths by dreading one.
All the greater Dangers over, Rinaldo’s Lady began to reflect on the strange Riddle of her Son’s Fortune, who by shunning one Fate, had (in all Probability) fallen into a worse, for they were above ten Leagues from any Land, and the Sea still retain’d a Roughness, unsettled since the preceeding Storm; she therefore begg’d her Brother-in-Law to Sail with all Speed in Search of her Son and Gasper; but all in vain, for cruising that Day, and the succeeding Night along the Coasts, without making any Discovery of what they sought, he sent a Boat to be inform’d by the Peasants, of any such Landing upon their Coast; but they soon had a dismal Account, finding the Body of Gasper thrown dead on the Sand, and near to him the Planks, the unhappy Occasion of his Flight, and the Faithless Sustainers of the Infant. So thinking these mournful Objects Testimonies enough of the Infant’s Loss, they return’d with the doleful Relation to their Captain and the Lady; her Grief at the recital of the Tragic Story, had almost transported her to Madness; what Account must she now make to the mournful Father, who esteem’d this Child the chief Treasure of his Life; she fear’d, that she might forfeit the Affection of a Husband, by being the unfortunate Cause of so great a Loss; but her Fears deceiv’d her, for altho’ her Husband, receiv’d her with great Grief, ’twas nevertheless moderated by the Patience of a Christian, and the Joy for recovering his beloved Lady.
This Misfortune was soon lessen’d by the growing Hopes of another Off-spring, which made them divest their Mourning, to make Preparations for the joyful Reception of this new Guest into the World; and upon its Appearance their Sorrows were redoubled, ’twas a Daughter, its Limbs were distorted, its Back bent, and tho’ the face was the freest from Deformity, yet had it no Beauty to Recompence the Dis-symetry of the other Parts; Physicians being consulted in this Affair, derived the Cause from the Frights and dismal Apprehensions of the Mother, at her being taken by the Pyrates; about which time they found by Computation, the Conception of the Child to be; the Mother grew very Melancholy, rarely speaking, and not to be comforted by any Diversion. She conceiv’d again, but no hopes of better Fortune cou’d decrease her Grief, which growing with her Burden, eased her of both at once, for she died in Child-birth, and left the most beautiful Daughter to the World that ever adorn’d Venice, but naturally and unfortunately Dumb, which defect the learn’d attributed to the Silence and Melancholy of the Mother, as the Deformity of the other was to the Extravagance of her Frights.
Rinaldo, waving all Intentions of a second Marriage, directs his Thoughts to the Care of his Children, their Defects not lessening his Inclination, but stirring up his Endeavours in supplying the Defaults of Nature by the Industry of Art; he accordingly makes the greatest Provision for their Breeding and Education, which prov’d so effectual in a little Time, that their Progress was a greater Prodigy than themselves.
The Eldest, called Belvideera, was indefatigably addicted to Study, which she had improv’d so far, that by the sixteenth Year of her Age, she understood all the European Languages, and cou’d speak most of’em, but was particularly pleas’d with the English, which gave me the Happiness of many Hours Conversation with her; and I may ingenuously declare, ’twas the most Pleasant I ever enjoy’d, for besides a piercing Wit, and depth of Understanding peculiar to herself, she delivered her Sentiments with that easiness and grace of Speech, that it charm’d all her Hearers.
The Beauties of the second Sister, nam’d Maria, grew with her Age, every twelve Months saluting her with a New-years Gift of some peculiar Charm; her Shapes were fine set off with a graceful and easy Carriage; the Majesty and Softness of her Face, at once wrought Love and Veneration; the Language of her Eyes sufficiently paid the Loss of her Tongue, and there was something so Commanding in her Look, that it struck every Beholder as dumb as herself; she was a great Proficient in Painting, which puts me in mind of a notable Story I can’t omit; her Father had sent for the most Famous Painter in Italy to draw her Picture, she accordingly sat for it; he had drawn some of the Features of her Face; and coming to the Eye, desired her to give him as brisk and piercing a Glance as she cou’d; but the Vivacity of her Look so astonished the Painter, that thro’ concern he let his Pencil drop and spoiled the Picture; he made a second Essay, but with no better Success, for rising in great Disorder, he swore it impossible to draw that which he cou’d not look upon; the Lady vexed at the Weakness of the Painter, took up his Pencils and the Picture, and sitting down to her Glass, finished it herself; she had improv’d her silent Conversation with her Sister so far, that she was understood by her, as if she had spoke, and I remember this Lady was the first I saw use the significative Way of Discourse by the Fingers; I dare not say ’twas she invented it (tho’ it probably might have been an Invention of these ingenious Sisters) but I am positive none before her ever brought it to that Perfection.
In the seventeenth of Belvideera’s, and sixteenth Year of Maria’s Age, Francisco, Brother to Rinaldo, was made Admiral of the Venetian Fleet, and upon his first Entrance upon his Command, had obtained a signal Victory over the Turks; he returning to Venice with Triumph, applause and spoil, presented to the great Duke a young English Gentleman, who only as a Volunteer in the Action, had signalized himself very bravely in the Engagement, but particularly by first boarding the Turkish Admiral Galley, and killing her Commander hand to hand; the Fame of this Gentleman soon spread over all Venice, and the two Sisters sent presently for me, to give an Account of the Exploits of my Countryman, as their Unkle had recounted it to them; I was pleas’d to find so great an Example of English Bravery, so far from Home, and long’d extreamly to converse with him, vainly flattering myself, that he might have been of my Acquaintance. That very Night there was a grand Ball and Masquerade at the great Duke’s Palace, for the most signal Joy of the late Success, thither Belvideera invited me to Accompany her and Maria, adding withal as a Motive, that we might there most probably meet, and Discourse with this young Hero; and equipping me with a Suit of Masquerade, they carried me in their Coach to the Ball, where we had pass’d half an Hour, when I saw enter a handsom Gentleman in a rich English Dress; I show’d him to Belvideera, who moving towards him, with a gallant Air, slaps him on the Shoulder with her Fan, he turning about, and viewing her Person, the Defaults of which were not altogether hidden by her Disguise; ‘Sir, (said he) if you are a Man, know that I am one, and will not bear Impertinence; but, if you are a Lady, Madam, as I hope in Heavens you are not, I must inform you, that I am under a Vow, not to converse with any Female to Night;’ ‘Know then, Sir, (answered Belvideera very smartly) that I am a Female, and you have broke your Vow already; but methinks, Sir, the Ladies are very little oblig’d to your Vow, which wou’d rob them of the Conversation of so fine a Gentleman.’
‘Madam, (said the Gentleman) the Sweetness of your Voice bespeaks you a Lady, and I hope the breaking my Vow will be so far from Damning me, that I shall thereby merit Heaven, if I may be blest in your Divine Conversation.’ Belvideera made such ingenious and smart Repartees to the Gentleman, who was himself a great Courtier, that he was entirely captivated with her Wit, insomuch, that he cou’d not refrain making Protestations of his Passion; he talked about half an Hour in such pure Italian, that I began to mistrust my Englishman, wherefore taking some Occasion to jest upon his Habit, I found ’twas only a Masquerade to cloak a down-right Venetian; in the mean Time, we perceiv’d a Gentleman Gallantly attir’d with no Disguise but a Turkish Turbant on, the richliest beset with Jewels I ever saw; he addressed Maria with all the Mien and Air of the finest Courtier; he had talked to her a good while before we heard him, but then Belvideera, knowing her poor Sister uncapable of any Defence, ‘Sir, (said she to the Venetian,) yonder is a Lady of my Acquaintance, who lies under a Vow of Silence as you were, I must therefore beg your Pardon, and fly to her Relief’: ‘She can never be conquer’d, who has such a Champion,’ (reply’d the Gentleman) upon which Belvideera turning from him, interpos’d between the Gentleman and her Sister, saying, ‘This Lady, Sir, is under an Obligation of Silence, as a Penance imposed by her Father-Confessor.’ ‘Madam, (reply’d the Gentleman) whoever impos’d Silence on these fair Lips, is guilty of a greater Offence than any, such a fair Creature cou’d commit.’ ‘Why, Sir, (said Belvideera) have you seen the Lady’s Beauty’: ‘Yes, Madam, (answer’d he) for urging her to talk, which I found she declin’d, I promis’d to disengage her from any farther Impertinence, upon a Sight of her Face; she agreed by paying the Price of her Liberty, which was ransom enough for any Thing under Heavens, but her fair Company’; he spoke in an Accent that easily shew’d him a Stranger; which Belvideera laying hold of, as an Occasion of Railery, ‘Sir, (said she,) your Tongue pronounces you a great Stranger in this Part of the World, I hope you are not what that Turbant represents; perhaps, Sir, you think your self in the Seraglio’; ‘Madam, (reply’d he,) this Turbant might have been in the Turkish Seraglio, but never in so fair a one as this; and this Turbant (taking it off) is now to be laid at the Foot of some Christian Lady, for whose safety, and by whose protecting Influence, I had the Happiness to win it from the Captain of the Turkish Admiral Galley.’ We were all surpriz’d, knowing him then the young English Gentleman, we were so curious of seeing; Belvideera presently talk’d English to him, and made him some very pretty Complements upon his Victory, which so charm’d the young Soldier, that her Tongue claim’d an equal Share in his Heart with Maria’s Eyes; ‘Madam, (said he to her) if you have the Beauty of that Lady, or if she has your Wit, I am the most happy, or the most unfortunate Man alive.’ ‘Sir,’ said the Venetian coming up, ‘pray give me leave to share in your Misfortunes.’ ‘Sir, (said Belvideera very smartly) you must share in his good Fortunes, and learn to conquer Men, before you have the Honour of being subdu’d by Ladies, we scorn mean Prizes, Sir.’ ‘Madam, (said the Venetian in some Choler) perhaps I can subdue a Rival.’ ‘Pray, Sir, (said the Stranger) don’t be angry with the Lady, she’s not your Rival I hope, Sir.’ Said the Venetian, ‘I can’t be angry at the Lady, because I love her; but my Anger must be levell’d at him, who after this Declaration dare own a Passion for her.’ ‘Madam, (said the English Gentleman turning from the Venetian) Honour now must extort a Confession from me, which the Awfulness of my Passion durst never have own’d: And I must declare,’ added he in a louder Voice, ‘to all the World, that I love you, lest this Gentleman shou’d think his Threats forc’d me to disown it.’ ‘O! then (said Belvideera) you’re his Rival in Honour, not in Love.’ ‘In honourable Love I am, Madam,’ answer’d the Stranger. ‘I’ll try,’ (said the Venetian, going off in Choler,) he Whisper’d a little to a Gentleman, that stood at some Distance, and immediately went out; this was Gonzago, a Gentleman of good Reputation in Venice, his Principles were Honour and Gallantry, but the Former often sway’d by Passions, rais’d by the Latter. All this while, Maria and I were admiring the Stranger, whose Person was indeed wonderfully Amiable; his Motions were exact, yet free and unconstrain’d; the Tone of his Voice carried a sweet Air of Modesty in it, yet were all his Expressions manly; and to summ up all, he was as fine an English Gentleman, as I ever saw Step in the Mall.
Poor Maria never before envied her Sister the Advantage of Speech, or never deplor’d the Loss of her own with more Regret, she found something so Sweet in the Mien, Person, and Discourse of this Stranger, that her Eyes felt a dazling Pleasure in beholding him, and like flattering Mirrours represented every Action and Feature, with some heightning Advantage to her Imagination: Belvideera also had some secret Impulses of Spirit, which drew her insensibly into a great Esteem of the Gentleman; she ask’d him, by what good Genius, propitious to Venice, he was induced to Live so remote from his Country; he said, that he cou’d not imploy his Sword better than against the common Foe of Christianity; and besides, there was a peculiar Reason, which prompted him to serve there, which Time cou’d only make known. I made bold to ask him some peculiar Questions, about Affairs at Court, to most of which he gave Answers, that shew’d his Education liberal, and himself no Stranger to Quality; he call’d himself Dangerfield, which was a Name that so pleas’d me, that being since satisfied it was a Counterfeit, I us’d it in a Comedy of mine: We had talk’d ’till the greater Part of the Company being dispers’d, Dangerfield begg’d Leave to attend us to our Coach, and waiting us to the Door, the Gentleman, whom Gonzago whisper’d, advanc’d and offer’d his Service to hand Maria; she declin’d it, and upon his urging, she turn’d to the other Side of Dangerfield, who, by this Action of the Ladies finding himself intitled to her Protection, ‘Sir, (said he) Favours from great Beauties, as from great Monarchs, must flow Voluntarily, not by Constraint, and whosoever wou’d extort from either, are liable to the great Severity of Punishment.’ ‘Oh! Sir, (reply’d the Venetian very arrogantly,) I understand not your Monarchy, we live here under a free State; besides, Sir, where there is no Punishment to be dreaded, the Law will prove of little Force; and so, Sir, by your Leave,’ offering to push him aside, and lay hold on the Lady. Dangerfield returned the Justle so vigorously, that the Venetian fell down the Descent of some Stairs at the Door, and broke his Sword: Dangerfield leap’d down after him, to prosecute his Chastizement, but seeing his Sword broken, only whisper’d him, that if he wou’d meet him next Morning at Six, at the Back-part of St. Mark’s Church, he wou’d satisfie him for the Loss of his Sword; upon which, the Venetian immediately went off, cursing his ill Fate, that prevented his quarrelling with Dangerfield, to whom he had born a grudging Envy ever since his Success in the late Engagement, and of whom, and his Lodgings, he had given Gonzago an Account, when he whisper’d him at the Ball. Dangerfield left us full of his Praises, and went home to his Lodgings, where he found a Note directed to him to this Effect:
SIR,
You declared Publickly at the Ball, you were my Rival in Love and Honour: If you dare prove it by Maintaining it, I shall be to morrow Morning at Six, at the Back-part of St. Mark’s Church, where I shall be ready to fall a Sacrifice to both.
Gonzago.
Dangerfield, on the Perusal of this Challenge, began to reflect on the Strangeness of that Evening’s Adventure, which had engag’d him in a Passion for two Mistresses, and involv’d him in two Duels; and whether the Extravagance of his Passion, or the Oddness of his Fighting-Appointments, were most remarkable, he found hard to Determine; his Love was divided between the Beauty of one Lady, and Wit of another, either of which he loved passionately, yet nothing cou’d satisfy him, but the Possibility of enjoying both. He had appointed the Gentleman at the Ball to meet him at the same Time and Place, which Gonzago’s Challenge to him imported; this Disturbance employed his Thought till Morning, when rising and dressing himself very richly, he walked to the appointed Place. Erizo, who was the Gentleman whose Sword he had broke, was in the Place before him; and Gonzago entered at the same Time with him. Erizo, was surprized to see Gonzago, as much as he was to find Erizo there. ‘I don’t remember, Friend (said Gonzago) that I desired your Company here this Morning.’ ‘As much as I expected yours,’ answered Erizo. ‘Come, Gentlemen, (said Dangerfield, interrupting them) I must fight you both, it seems: which shall I dispatch first?’ ‘Sir, (said Erizo) you challeng’d me, and therefore I claim your Promise.’ ‘Sir, (reply’d Gonzago) he must require the same of me first, as I challenged him.’ Said Erizo, ‘the Affront I received was unpardonable, and therefore I must fight him first, lest if he fall by your Hands, I be depriv’d of my Satisfaction.’ ‘Nay (reply’d Gonzago) my Love and Honour being laid at Stake, first claims his Blood; and therefore, Sir, (continued he to Dangerfield) defend yourself.’ ‘Hold (said Erizo interposing,) if you thrust home, you injure me, your Friend.’ ‘You have forfeited that title, (said Gonzago all in Choler,) and therefore if you stand not aside, I’ll push at you.’ ‘Thrust home then, (said Erizo) and take what follows.’ They immediately assaulted each other vigorously. ‘Hold, Gentlemen, (said Dangerfield striking down their Swords) by righting your selves you injure me, robbing me of that Satisfaction, which you both owe me, and therefore, Gentlemen, you shall fight me, before any private Quarrel among your selves defraud me of my Revenge, and so one or both of you,’ thrusting first at Erizo. ‘I’m your Man,’ (said Gonzago) parrying the Thrust made at Erizo. The Clashing of so many Swords alarm’d some Gentlemen at their Mattins in the Church, among whom was Rinaldo, who since the Death of his Wife, had constantly attended Morning-Service at the Church, wherein she was buried. He with Two or Three more, upon the Noise ran out, and parting the three Combatants, desired to know the Occasion of their Promiscuous Quarrel. Gonzago and Erizo knowing Rinaldo, gave him an Account of the Matter, as also who the Stranger was. Rinaldo was overjoy’d to find the brave Britain, whom he had received so great a Character of, from his Brother the Admiral, and accosting him very Courteously, ‘Sir, (said he) I am sorry our Countrymen shou’d be so Ungrateful as to Injure any Person, who has been so Serviceable to the State; and pray, Gentlemen, (added he, addressing the other two) be intreated to suspend your Animosities, and come Dine with me at my House, where I hope to prevail with you to end your Resentments.’ Gonzago and Erizo hearing him Compliment the Stranger at their Expence, told him in a Rage, they wou’d chuse some other Place than his House, to end their Resentments in, and walk’d off. Dangerfield, on Rinaldo’s farther Request, accompanied him to his House.